Gemma Clare was more than a little defiant. She drove around Maine on a Vespa, after all, the least safe, least conventional form of transportation he could imagine.
He was finding it hard to think.
Her smile. Her curves in that black coat, blue sweater dress, and tall boots. Her trademark vitality. On top of all that, she smelled ridiculously good.
Every fiber of him wanted to swerve this car to a curb and pull her into a private space and draw her body against his. He wanted to feel the texture of her dress beneath his fingers. He wanted to run his hands into her hair. Then taste her lips and breathe her in—
This line of thought was extremely unprofessional. A lot was riding on Operation Scent-sible and from now until they parted from Cedric and Vincent, he needed his brain to beverysharp.
Ten more minutes. He had to endure ten more minutes shut inside the car with her before they reached the restaurant.
They'd talked on the phone for an hour last night and he was as confident as he could be that Gemma was ready. Even so, to get their minds—his mind—focused, he started quizzing her on the backstory of their supposed romance. She answered every question with ease, then quizzed him in return. He breezed through the answers.
“Cedric is not a particularly observant man,” she said, ending the game. “It's his henchman-slash-bodyguard-slash-friend-slash-assistant Vincent who's as observant as they come. He misses nothing and he's the one we'll have to convince.”
“We'll convince Vincent.”
“Are you wearing a wire?”
“No.” Technically true since no one had worn an actual microphone wire for decades. He was recording, though, thanks to a microscopic device in what looked like a car key fob. “We're almost there. How are you feeling?”
“Earlier I was nervous, but now I'm fine.”
“Yeah?”
“No need to worry about me. I typically do very well under pressure.”
There were numerous things he wanted to say to her in these final seconds but he kept them all back. Gemma seemed to be in the right headspace. He refused to risk saying more and potentially throwing her off her game.
He brought the Mercedes to a stop in the parking lot behind the restaurant and killed the engine, leaving them in dense silence. “When we step out of this car, we’re a couple.”
“Right. And you’re not going to act all ruffled and stiff about it.”
He glanced across at her. “I'm going to act only as ruffled and stiff as I do with my actual girlfriends.”
“You told me at our first meeting that you do not have an actual girlfriend at present. Has that changed?”
“No.”
“Good. This is complicated enough as it is. Selfishly I'm glad that I'm queen of your heart.”
“Jude Camden's heart is not involved.” At least, he wished to heaven and back that it wasn't.
“Right butJude McConnell'sheart is enraptured with me—”
“Enraptured is overstating it—”
“I'm queen of Jude McConnell's heart,” she said firmly.
He checked his watch. “Time to go.” He gave her an expression like,You sure you're good?
Gemma looked at him dead-on. “I'm good, boyfriend of mine.”
He exited the car.
She did the same.
Before they'd gone two steps, she interlaced her fingers with his.
